


Haunted

by bastardmice (itsahardyparty), BlackwaterParkRanger



Category: Type O Negative (Band)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Captivity, Dogs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Forced Cohabitation, M/M, Murder, Sex, Social Anxiety, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28443483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsahardyparty/pseuds/bastardmice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackwaterParkRanger/pseuds/BlackwaterParkRanger
Summary: This is the worst kill Kenny has ever set out to do, and it's vexing to say the least. Even the basement's dim light can't conceal how attractive Johnny is, and as Kenny searches for reasons not to kill him, the two of them find themselves in a bit of a weird compromise. Kenny doesn't seem to have any emotional range at all, and he is a murderer, but...at least there's no rent, right?
Relationships: Kenny Hickey/Johnny Kelly
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

"C'mon. What do you even have to lose?"

Kenny glances over his shoulder at the man bound to the old kitchen chair. Taking the gag out of his mouth had been a mistake, but usually it made his victims feel better to beg for their lives, to put some kind of effort in. Generally, Kenny is pretty indifferent toward what his victims want, but sometimes, if they see that their efforts are in vain, they'll shut up after a while. 

This particular victim, however, is begging for something entirely different. 

“Shut up.”

“Why are you playing hard to get? Shouldn’t that be my move?”

The driver’s license he had found in the man’s wallet had the name Johnny Kelly printed across the front in all caps, but he had already offered that up easily enough, all bubbly laughter and easy flirtation after Kenny singled him out at the bar. The only problem is that he doesn’t seem keen on stopping.

“You weren’t particularly hard to get, that’s why you’re here.”

Johnny’s laugh is clear as a bell, echoing off the cement floor in a way that should be irritating, all things considered, but isn’t. “Fair enough, but that’s not a real explanation. And it’s not a no, either.”

Kenny turns back around, idly twirling the knife between his fingers. Johnny is...interesting is certainly a word for it. He's still clearly a little buzzed, but not drunk enough to be completely incoherent. He should have begun begging for his life by now. It's a little strange that he hasn't, and Kenny is more than a little curious as to why. Well...aside from the reason he'd previously stated. 

"No."

Johnny laughs again, relaxing in the chair, seeming completely unbothered by the handcuffs and uncomfortable seat. "Why not?"

"What do you mean why? I said no." 

"It's really the least you can do." Johnny bats his eyelashes, undeterred by Kenny's unfalteringly stoic expression. He's not sure if his killer-to-be has actually changed facial expressions in the entire time he's been here. If anything, it only seems to have egged him on. He wants a reaction, damn it!

"How the fuck do you figure that?"

"If you're gonna kill me, in what I imagine will be a really gruesome and passionate way, the least you can do is fuck me before I die." 

Kenny blinks, looking vaguely puzzled, and Johnny grins. "That's your reasoning?"

"Yeah. I left with you, expecting to get dicked down, and the least you can do--the _least_ , Kenny--is follow through. So c'mon, get on it. I can see you considering it. Even if you suck in bed, it's not like I'm gonna be around to tell people." 

There's something about Johnny using Kenny's name that feels sort of weird to him, in a way that he can't quite place. It's not normal for victims. Usually, they see him as this terrifying almost-god, in control of whether they live or die, and while that isn't ideal either, it's something he's adjusted to. Kenny isn't particularly narcissistic. That part has never appealed to him, and the begging grates on his nerves. 

This, though...this is different. Not quite as unpleasant as the crying, but off-putting nonetheless.

Johnny takes the prolonged silence as a cue to keep on talking. “What if I promise to make it worth your while?”

“Well, I’d be a little embarrassed for you if you promised me a bad fuck out the gate.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Johnny rolls his wrists in the restraints a bit, not so much pulling at them as he is getting comfortable. “I get that you’re not completely sold, even though I really do feel cheated right now, but what if I agreed to go along with everything? Get slaughtered with no complaints or whatever.”

Kenny stares at him, really taking in his lazy smile and posture. It doesn’t seem fake, but Kenny’s always had a bit of trouble putting a finer point on other people’s intentions. “Are you just angling for me to let you out of the chair?”

Johnny shrugs his shoulders. “No, you can keep me tied up. I don’t care.”

“...If you’re gonna die anyway, why should I take this deal?”

“Well, there has to be something you like, right? You wouldn’t go around luring people in to kill them if you didn’t enjoy it, and there has to be some sort of ideal. If you agree to have sex with me first, I’ll do my best to fit that ideal.”

Kenny flips the knife around in his hand a few more times. “What makes you confident you’ll be able to hold up your end? That you won’t cry and beg and throw a fit at the first sign of real danger?”

“I think I can take it.” He says it like a fact rather than a brag, and Kenny feels himself pause for a second again.

“You...think you can just sit for your own death without any problems?”

Johnny grins, lazy and content, like he’s got Kenny right where he wants him. “If you fuck me beforehand, yeah.”

Kenny struggles with that a little. He can't help it. Though he often doesn't see the point in doing it himself, he's generally pretty good at telling when someone is lying. And Johnny, oddly enough, does not appear to be lying. It would almost be charming were it not so goddamn weird. 

Snapping Kenny out of his own thoughts yet again, Johnny ventures, "So, what do you like?" 

"What?" 

"For your murders. What do you like?" 

"...silence. Hate the fucking screaming." 

"Interesting." 

"How is it interesting?"

"I thought you'd be into the power trip."

"Not really. I just like to kill people."

Johnny laughs again, but Kenny doesn't understand why what he said was funny.

"Okay. I won't scream, then. But if you don't fuck me first I'll make sure I drive you fuckin' nuts." He's just grinning, like this is a game to him. He's enjoying this. "C'mon. Do we have a deal?"

Kenny twirls the knife between his fingers a few more times, then slowly sets it down on the back table. "Uh...okay. Yeah. Deal."

Johnny grins, very satisfied with himself, and settles further into his seat as Kenny approaches him. He grins and pushes his hips up a little as Kenny starts to undo his belt, then begins to drag his jeans down his thighs, but protests when Kenny starts on his own pants. "Whoa, whoa, whoa."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

Kenny blinks, brows furrowing, as he tries to angle Johnny in the chair properly so that he can fuck him without untying him. "I'm fucking you, like you asked."

"You're just gonna jump straight into it?" Johnny raises his eyebrows disapprovingly. "What, c'mon. You're not even gonna kiss me?"

"No. I'm not. You asked me to fuck you, not kiss you."

"Well now I'm asking you to kiss me."

"This isn't The Notebook."

"I'm asking you to kiss me."

Kenny's face remains stony, but the outer shells of his ears redden just slightly. "Why?"

Johnny grins. "Because I want you to kiss me."

He really, truly does not know how to process that, aside from looking a bit like a buffering computer screen, and Johnny can't help but find it a little charming. "I...okay."

"Try not to sound so put out, babe. It isn't attractive."

“You’re really pushy for being all trussed up…and for promising to be quiet later.”

“I swear I’ll keep my mouth shut later, just c’mon. Kiss me.”

Kenny watches him for a second, the easy smile and casual posture so out of place, and it tugs on something unknown in his stomach. “...yeah, okay.”

The height of the chair makes it awkward, but Kenny cocks a hip and bends at the waist, bringing a hand up to tuck Johnny’s hair behind his ear and cup his face gently. He finds it almost too easy to lean all the way in, press his lips against Johnny’s, and sink into the feeling of Johnny kissing him back. It’s nice, soft and slow, and Kenny can feel when Johnny hums contentedly low in his throat.

Johnny’s eyes flutter back open slowly when Kenny pulls away, and his face slides back into his ever present smile. He tugs at the restraint pinning his right wrist down. “Do you mind?”

Kenny blinks a few times. “...yes. Obviously.”

“C’mon, Kenny, please? What can I do with one hand?”

It still feels weird to hear his own name from Johnny’s mouth, asking for freedom in a way that's somehow both familiar and foreign. But Kenny isn’t stupid. “A lot. That’s why they’re both restrained, same with your ankles.”

Johnny rolls his eyes, but the smile doesn’t dip, not even for a second. “I guess…kiss me some more.”

Kenny really doesn’t know why he indulges Johnny, but he does, leaning back forward to kiss him again, deeper than before. One of his hands slides through Johnny’s hair to cradle his head while the other braces on the backrest of the chair over Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny’s mouth is soft and firm as it moves against Kenny’s own, and Kenny can’t remember the last time he’s enjoyed just kissing someone, or even if there ever was a time before this. The thought makes him pull back slightly, still braced against the chair and practically nose to nose with Johnny, and he gets an up close view of Johnny’s dark eyes blinking back open.

“Please,” he whispers, and Kenny can feel the way it’s more of an exhale than a word. “Just one hand?”

He swallows dryly, suddenly very aware of how warm his face feels and the nausea-adjacent feeling boiling up in his stomach. "Uh..." Johnny stares up at him, blinking earnestly through his eyelashes, and against his better judgement, Kenny finds himself reaching for the handcuff keys. "Fine. One hand. That's it."

"I dunno how you're gonna fuck me with my feet still tied up, but--"

"Shut up, I'll figure it out later. Take what I give you." Kenny rests one knee on the seat of the chair, between Johnny's legs, and reaches behind him. He unlocks one of the cuffs and smoothly locks it around one of the dowels on the back of the chair, though he honestly sort of regrets it as soon as he's done it and Johnny begins to roll his free wrist. What the hell is happening to him? Kenny never used to be soft like this. 

Johnny immediately puts his newfound freedom to good use, burying his hand in Kenny's hair and pulling him down for another kiss. 

All the worries in Kenny’s brain stall out for a second as he kisses Johnny back. He’s still braced up above Johnny with his knee on the chair, and it should be an awkward angle for him to lean down, but it’s not. Johnny tugs gently on Kenny’s hair, angling his head to kiss him deeper before letting his hand drift down over Kenny’s chest and then back up under his shirt.

Kenny can feel his own stomach tense in expectation of some push back, a sign that yes, giving a prisoner a hand free was a _terrible decision_ , but nothing ever comes. Johnny just settles his hand against Kenny’s hip and strokes his thumb gently over Kenny’s hipbone before pulling out of the kiss with a soft pop.

His lips are still pink and spit-slick when he speaks. “Take your shirt off.”

Kenny blinks his eyes open from when they’d fallen shut, and can’t help but stare at Johnny incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Well it’s not like I wanted a hand free for my own health, Kenny, c’mon.” He tugs gently on the bottom hem of Kenny’s shirt before resting his hand back on his hip.

“You should have, though, you get that, right?”

“What do I have to do to prove this isn’t some con, let you kill me? I’m already planning on it. Just… c’mon.”

Kenny’s stomach feels tight, but he doesn’t fully know why, and the way Johnny’s grinning up at him, head tilted almost all the way back to look Kenny in the eye, is not helping. “You’re making a lot of demands.”

“I’ve only got so much time to get ‘em out, sue me. Shirt.”

For the life of him, Kenny can't figure out why he continues to indulge Johnny's requests, but...he does. He slowly pulls back and tugs his shirt over his head, pausing when Johnny whistles lowly and drags a hand down his stomach. "What?" 

"What, I can't look a little? You have a nice body." It's not chiseled or anything, but Kenny is mostly just lean muscle. It's a good look for him. "Not a bad view at all." 

Kenny blinks a few times and climbs off the chair, ignoring Johnny when he whines in disappointment. He'd never really thought about how his body looked to other people, but he supposes the compliment is nice. 

"What, did I say something? C'mon--"

"Shut up." Kenny grabs his knife off the table and grabs the hem of Johnny's shirt, slicing it cleanly up the middle. He grabs Johnny's jaw to hold his face steady, then kisses him again, still twirling the knife in one hand, and smirks a little when he blushes slightly. "Don't tell me you're shy now." He squeezes Johnny's jaw lightly, and he swallows. 

"N-no, I just..." Johnny blinks up at him, grabbing his wrist but not trying to pull it away. "Your...hands."

"My hands?" Kenny stops twirling the knife for a moment and pauses to trace it along Johnny's collarbone, then applies pressure so suddenly to Johnny's throat that he gasps. "Maybe that's how I'll kill you then." 

Instead of looking put off, Johnny lets his mouth fall open and his eyes fall shut, and squeezes Kenny's wrist. "Fuck." 

It's almost enraging how calm Johnny seems to be. Not that Kenny misses the screaming and crying, far from it, but the way he's just so...accepting of his fate makes him feel weird. Lots of things about Johnny make Kenny feel weird, and he sort of wishes it would stop. This is becoming uncharted territory very quickly, and the more comfortable Johnny seems with his inevitable demise, the less Kenny actually wants to kill him. It's just science, right? Kenny is...fascinated. Killing Johnny would almost be a waste at this point. 

"C'mon, babe, fuck..." Johnny whines, squirming a little and biting his lip, and Kenny feels his face start to get warm. Had Johnny just called him _babe?_

Kenny releases some of the pressure on Johnny's throat and leans in to kiss him deeply, and his stomach does another weird thing when Johnny drags his hand down his chest and tugs at his waistband. "Mm." 

Kenny swallows, and his voice is rough to his own ears. “What, you done with the foreplay now?”

Johnny just pulls harder on Kenny’s waistband, two fingers hooked inside tugging it cockeyed further down over his hip. “Kenny, please.”

Kenny leans in and kisses him again, letting Johnny tug him in closer by his pants until he has to plant his knee back on the chair. Johnny’s hand drifts back up to palm at Kenny’s chest before settling back down on his hip above where his waistband now sits. He’s tactile in a way that Kenny really doesn’t have a comparison for, and it adds to the weird new feeling in his gut.

When Johnny pulls back, it takes a second for his eyes to blink open, and he’s still pink across the cheeks. He bites his lip, clearly thinking about something, and it puts Kenny a bit on edge. “You’re gonna have to let me up--no, don’t pull that face. You can’t just back out now!”

Kenny knew this was coming, but he still doesn’t like it. It feels like the last hold out to fully admitting the effect Johnny has on him. “Or what, huh?”

“I’ll spend my last minutes being horny and sad and annoying on purpose, c’mon.” Johnny’s practically whining, and his fingers are digging into Kenny’s hip. “You’re gonna have to undo at least both my ankles, and then it’s just one hand, and at that point... “ He trails off, pulling his best pleading face with wide, sad eyes and a pout.

Fuck, this is a terrible idea. The kind of shit that will ruin his life beyond repair, and if he's smart, he’d slit Johnny’s throat and be done with it, weird feelings be damned. “...okay.”

“Really?”

“Not to all of it.” Kenny levels the knife to Johnny’s throat, but he doesn’t so much as blink at it. “But I’ll rearrange you a bit so it's... actually feasible. But you're gonna have to work with me."

"I'm not gonna do anything, but y'know, if it makes you feel better to be cautious..." Johnny shrugs, and giggles at the way Kenny practically twitches. "Yes, okay? I'll cooperate. You're so serious, god." 

It's a little ambitious, and it kind of takes some teamwork, but it works. Kenny leaves Johnny's right hand free and uncuffs his right ankle, which gives him just barely enough slack to walk around the chair and bend over it, on Kenny's instruction. He's sort of half-kneeling at a very uncomfortable angle, and he has to stay that way while Kenny uncuffs his left wrist and then locks his wrists together again, underneath the seat of the chair. 

"Can you do something about my left leg? You're not fucking me like this."

"Can you show some modicum of patience? I'm working on it." 

He does jimmy Johnny's leg free, allowing him to kneel properly. He'd cuff his knees to the chair legs, but Johnny hasn't struggled once, and also the cuffs don't strictly seem wide enough to accommodate an adult man's leg at anything but the ankle. 

"Uh...wait here." 

"Wait, where are you going?" Johnny wriggles a little, twisting to look back at Kenny as he heads for the stairs. "Wait!" 

"I'll be right back. I uh...I have to get lube."

"What, you don't keep lube in your fucking murder basement?" 

Kenny stares at him for a moment. "What else do you think I do down here?"

Johnny doesn't answer him, so Kenny runs upstairs quickly to get a small bottle of lube out of his nightstand. By the time he gets back down, Johnny is already terribly impatient. 

"What took you so long?"

"I was gone thirty seconds." Kenny has no idea why he even asks this, and he mentally scolds himself the second he starts the sentence, but he still says "Is there anything else you want?" 

Johnny seems visibly surprised by that. "What?"

"I don't know. Like...the kissing. Anything else like that?"

"Yeah. I want you to let one of my hands up again."

"Absolutely fucking not. Pick something else."

"That's bullshit, you let me touch you before." Johnny huffs, and blows some hair out of his eyes. There are options to consider here. He wants to make an impression, right? Go out with a bang, finally get a reaction out of Mr. Spock here? 

Oh, he has the perfect idea.

"I wanna suck your dick."

Kenny is silent for so long that Johnny's almost afraid he didn't hear him, but then he finally ventures a "What?"

"What?" 

"You want to?"

"Yeah, it's kinda fun." It's fun when the recipient is reactive, at least, and that's what Johnny's banking on. "C'mon, I give pretty good head, too. Fulfill my final wish here, okay?"

"I'm doing a lot of fulfilling here."

"Hopefully you'll be fulFILLING me up--oh, c'mon. That was funny."

Kenny just looks unimpressed, though he does walk slowly over to Johnny and slides his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. His stomach still feels weird in a way that he distinctly disapproves of, but he still pulls Johnny's hair off his face, watching as he arches his back and leans up. The angle is awkward, no doubt, and Kenny tries to lower himself down a little so it isn't awful. 

Johnny gives one last half-hearted tug on the wrist restraints, pouting slightly, but Kenny pays it no mind.

Logically, Kenny knows that this is what Johnny’s been angling for practically the entire evening, with a quick break in the middle while he was unconscious and being restrained, but it’s still almost jarring to see his dick so close to Johnny’s face, in the fucking basement of all places. Jesus fuck, how’d he get talked into this?

All rational thought really flies out the window, however, when Johnny leans the final inches up and forward to mouth along the side of Kenny’s dick, eyes trained up on Kenny’s face for a reaction. Kenny can’t help but tangle his fingers in Johnny’s hair, not so much pulling as holding, and Johnny leans into it for half a moment before refocusing on what he was doing.

It’s a lot, Johnny dragging the flat of his tongue over the underside of Kenny’s dick, holding eye contact the whole time, and Kenny doesn’t really have the capacity to feel embarrassed at the speed of his reaction. Johnny smirking like Kenny’s erection is some sort of prize, rather than the natural response to the attention, doesn’t exactly help.

“You’ve gotta fucking stop,” he murmurs, fingers clenching in Johnny’s hair.

Johnny pulls back a fraction and wets his lips. “Stop what, babe?”

Kenny flushes a bit darker across his cheeks. “Looking at me like that.”

“Like what? Like this?” Without further preamble, Johnny takes the head of Kenny’s dick in his mouth and sucks hard, making an obscene, wet noise that echoes off the concrete basement floor in all the wrong ways while still staring Kenny directly in the eye.

“Jesus-” Kenny practically chokes on his own spit, and really, Johnny shouldn’t be able to look so smug with a dick in his mouth but he pulls it off surprisingly well. "Fuck."

Johnny drags his tongue up the side of Kenny's shaft on his way up and slowly begins to bob his head. He's making a lot of noise that's affecting Kenny more than it normally would, and the whole business is pleasant, obviously, if not a little frustrating. He isn't in the business of feeling things, and this is quickly becoming something very foreign, but for some reason he finds Johnny very hard to resist. 

He has to swallow down a groan when Johnny slowly works himself all the way down, blinking up at Kenny as he presses his nose against his pelvis, and he feels for a second like he may actually die. 

Johnny produces another obscene slurping sound as he begins to pull off, saliva running down his chin, and Kenny grabs his hair in one fist and unceremoniously jerks his head away. 

“What? You alright?” A smirk starts playing at the corner of Johnny’s lips, but Kenny is so goddamn serious that he can’t gauge whether he’s being successfully playful or dangerously annoying. “Get ahead of yourself?”

”No” is the only thing Kenny says in response, and Johnny whines when he straightens up and moves around to kneel behind him. 

“Eager for the kill?” Johnny twists around as well as he can to look at Kenny, and Kenny purposely looks away. “Did I do something?”

”No.” 

Wow, a conversational master, this one. 

Kenny takes a little while to warm the lube up so it’s not terribly offensive, then squirts some on to his fingers. Keeping one hand on Johnny’s hip, he slowly works a finger into him, and then another, but freezes when Johnny groans. 

“C’mon, why’d you stop?”

Kenny looks down at his unmoving hand and tries not to think about how good Johnny looks like this. “I...don’t know.” 

“Well...fuck, keep going.”

Kenny does, watching the way Johnny squirms and rocks back against his fingers, pulling at the restraints every so often. He’s very vocal, moreso than Kenny had expected, but it isn’t unpleasant. 

But, as much fun as he seems to be having, even this makes him impatient. “C’mon, fuck me.” 

“Are you sure--”

“You’re a gentleman, really, but c’mon.” Johnny pulls at the restraints again, almost hard enough to jostle the whole chair. “Hurry up.”

Kenny nods, wholly for his own sake, and squirts some more lube into his hand to work over his dick. He settles his cleaner hand on Johnny’s hip as he lines up and presses in, slow and steady. Johnny groans low in his throat again, pressing his face into the chair, and it really shouldn’t affect Kenny as much as it does.

“Oh, fuck, Kenny.”

“You okay?” He runs his hand up Johnny’s back gently as some sort of calming gesture, and Johnny turns awkwardly to look at him out the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, just…” He fades off into a deep breath, and Kenny is quietly thankful for the second to compose himself because this is…almost overwhelming. “I’m good.”

“Are you--”

“I’m fine, Jesus, now c’mon!” Johnny’s practically whining, squirming as much as he can in a way that pushes Kenny’s self control, and it shouldn’t be pulling at his gut like this, it really shouldn’t.

Kenny can’t help the small grin that plays over his features as he settles his hand back on Johnny’s hip. “Pushy.”

But Kenny is nothing if not a man of his word, so he takes his own breath and rocks his hips experimentally, watching for a reaction of any kind. He’s not disappointed, Johnny whining again and trying to push back into it, and it gives Kenny the affirmation needed to start really fucking him. He does try to go slowly at first, but Johnny is so fucking vocal and _enthusiastic_ when he rocks back into him that Kenny can't help but pick up the pace. He reaches forward and gathers Johnny's hair in one hand, using it to pull his head back so he can see the expression on his face. 

Johnny has a fine flush blooming across his cheeks, mouth open, eyes shut, and Kenny finds himself staring a little as he makes these pretty little fucked-out noises. He grabs Johnny's hip and pulls him back into a particularly hard thrust, studying the face he makes when he bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut tight. 

"Fuck, yeah, there..." Johnny pushes his hips back again, gasping when Kenny fucks into him hard. "Oh, shit--fuck, Kenny--" 

"Yeah? What do you want?" He pulls back on Johnny's hair sharply, enjoying the whine he wrings out of him far too much. The chair rattles as Kenny thrusts into him hard a few more times, and Johnny pulls on his restraints again. "C'mon, use your words."

"Fuck--touch me," he breathes, and Kenny's heart stalls in his chest briefly. "Please, babe, c'mon..." 

Kenny leans over him, angling his hips and snapping them hard to try and make Johnny's eyes cross. He takes the one hand off his hip and slowly reaches around to ghost his fingers over Johnny's dick, unable to help the smirk on his face when he jerks his hips and whines. 

"Fuck, that's not fair. Stop being a dick," Johnny gasps. 

"What? I can't have fun too?" Kenny pushes Johnny's head back down against the seat of the chair and thrusts into him hard a couple of times, looking triumphant when Johnny lets out a full-throated groan and squirms. He must have just _nailed_ his prostate. "What? There?"

He just whines in response. "Stop being a dick!" he repeats, jerking his hips back against Kenny's. "Come on, fuck..."

"You're very bossy, do you know that?" 

"Yes." Johnny's practically panting now, and whimpers when Kenny barely-touches his dick again. "You're an asshole."

“That’s not very nice.” Now that he’s not the one under the microscope, Kenny really does find it easier to catch his stride. He isn’t so much in his element as no longer out of it.

“C’mon, please, just--” Johnny cuts himself off with a gasp and pulls hard at the restraints.

Kenny responds by drifting his fingers up the underside of Johnny’s dick, not at all hard enough to be satisfying but with more pressure than previously, and Johnny whines high in his throat at the feeling, trying unsuccessfully to push his hips into it. Fuck, is he a sight, all desperate and writhing, and Kenny can’t help planting his hand back onto Johnny’s hip and fucking into him hard, smiling at the deep groan he gets in response.

“There we go, huh?”

“When the fuck did you get so cocky?” Johnny grunts, the side of his face pressed to the chair.

“Are you complaining?” Kenny really doesn’t know where this is coming from. It’s not the smooth, flirtatious mask he puts on to lure victims in, nor is it the analytical confidence normally reserved for the basement. Instead it’s some mixture of both, and it’s that weird feeling in his gut, it’s Johnny, that’s bringing it out.

But this isn’t the moment for introspection, far from it, so Kenny wraps his hand around Johnny’s dick, still fucking him hard enough to rock the chair, and strokes it gently a few times.

“Fuck, yeah,” Johnny gasps, immediately thrusting his hips into the pressure with the best of his ability, a valiant effort since his legs are practically shaking. “C’mon, I just--I need--” He cuts himself off with a whine, and Kenny can’t help but smirk.

“I know what you need,” he murmurs, shifting one of his knees out and changing the angle to something that has Johnny groaning with his whole chest and trying to rock back with each thrust.

“H-Holy shit, babe.”

Kenny leans over Johnny and starts to stroke his dick faster, watching the way he vocalizes and pushes into his hand. "C'mon. This is what you wanted, right?" He had considered trying to edge him, but honestly, the suspense might kill him. He wants to see Johnny come apart. "Come on, babe." That word sounds weird coming out of his mouth, but the way Johnny whines makes it worth it. 

"B-babe--Kenny, c'mon, I'm s-so fuckin' close--"

"I know. Come on." Kenny's nails bite into Johnny's skin as he snaps his hips, stroking his dick quickly and twisting his wrist. Johnny ruts into his hand and back on his cock, and he bites his lip and screws his face up. And Kenny just watches each little change in his reaction, totally enamored by the sight. 

Johnny certainly does not disappoint. He squeezes his eyes shut, letting his mouth fall open, and whines with everything in his chest as the frantic rocking of his hips begins to stutter. A lovely red flush blooms across his cheeks as he pulls on the restraints again, whining quiet, breathy little pleas for Kenny to keep going. This time, Kenny won't complain about indulging him, and fucks him steadily until his legs are trembling and he's trying to twist away from the contact to prevent overstimulation. 

"G-give me a second," he breathes, chest heaving, and glances back at Kenny. "Just...wait."

"For what?"

Johnny blinks back at him. "You...did you finish?"

"No."

Even through the pleasant post-orgasm haze, Kenny still manages to stand out as one of the most bizarre people Johnny has ever met. "Don't you want to? Babe...what, was I too loud?"

"No, I'm..." Well, he's obviously still hard, because he's still inside Johnny. "I wasn't focused on that. I was focusing on...you. Y'know, because you...this is what you wanted," he clarifies quickly. Johnny sounds disappointed, and he can't quite get at why. "Do you want me to finish?"

"Yes, obviously." Johnny takes a deep breath and relaxes a little, settling himself against the seat of the chair again. "Mm. Okay. Go." Kenny looks confused, and Johnny pushes his hips back emphatically. "C'mon, just...fuck me until you finish yourself off. I want you to. Yes, I'm sure."

"...you're still being bossy." That fact aside, Kenny rests his hands on Johnny's hips, taking a second to enjoy the sight of him like this. He really is just _pretty,_ even half collapsed over the chair as he is, and Kenny’s really not used to whatever his heart is doing right now, the tight, warm feeling in his chest.

Ever impatient, Johnny starts to really rock his hips back at a regular cadence, and Kenny finds his hold tightening around Johnny’s hips as he begins to push back into it, slowly working up to fucking him properly. It’s not even close to being hard enough to be mean, but Johnny’s still making throaty, fucked out gasps with every thrust, and it only serves to egg Kenny on when he bites his lip to muffle them.

“Fuck, Kenny, babe, I--” Johnny cuts himself off with a moan, eyes still screwed shut while his mouth falls completely open, and it’s enough to make the movement of Kenny’s hips falter.

The stutter in Kenny’s rhythm only grows until he’s digging his nails into Johnny’s hips for a handful of final, brutal thrusts before he stalls out with a chest-deep groan. He feels like he’s been wrung out to dry, and all he can do is push his hair out of his face before pulling out as gently as he can.

Johnny breathes heavy for a beat before peering out the corner of his eye at Kenny and turning on a shit eating grin. “...I thought you didn’t like ‘em loud.”

“Shut up.”

Johnny giggles clear as a bell, cheek still pressed to the seat of the chair. He tries to arch his back enough to stretch, but it’s clearly a wasted endeavor, because he just collapses back down. They both take a minute to catch their breath, Kenny sitting down on the ground and leaning against the back of the chair while he repeatedly scrubs his hands over his face. Fuck, that was… something.

Johnny breaks the silence by clearing his throat to catch Kenny’s attention. “Can I sit normal in the chair for the next bit? Not to complain, because that was… beyond what I could’ve imagined, but kneeling on the concrete floor sucks.”

The whole room collapses around Kenny’s ears in a second, but Johnny’s just blinking up at him lazily, still seemingly fucked out and happy.

Fuck.

It’s not that he forgot, per say, more that he’d intentionally shoved it to the back of his head, and now it was time to face up. The pit in his stomach is growing by the moment, every well meaning glance from Johnny setting it off even worse. He doesn't want to kill Johnny, and the reality of it is, he can't even picture himself doing it, especially after everything. It'd be a waste, and the way his intestines feel knotted only confirms that this isn't the right course of action, despite being the only safe one.

“Kenny? I don’t--I promise this is still okay.” He shakes the hair out of his face with a tired, satisfied grin. “You more than delivered.”

Kenny blinks. “What? Oh—no, I can let you out.” He shifts to his knees to pull his jeans back up around his hips, then goes digging for the handcuff keys. A part of him is still screaming that it’s massively stupid to just let Johnny go, but he shoos it away and unlocks him. 

“Thanks.” Johnny stands up briefly and pulls his pants up as well, then reaches his arms over his head, stretching until his back pops. Before he drops back into the chair, Kenny’s eyes travel all the way up his legs before settling on his still-flushed face. It honestly just makes that feeling in his gut worse. “Are you good?”

Kenny has to snap out of it, again, and peers up at Johnny from where he’s still sitting on the floor. “What?”

Johnny smiles a little. His eyes are awfully big from this angle. “Your knife is over there.” 

Slowly standing up, Kenny drags himself over to his “craft table” and picks his knife back up. He’d been willing to bet that once the fun part of this was over, Johnny would change his mind and the fear would set in, but it still hasn’t. “Sorry, I’m just...you’re not even gonna try to get me to spare your life?”

”No. You told me you hate that.” Johnny keeps grinning, and Kenny chooses to focus his attention to his knife. “Why? Is it weird?”

”A little.”

”Too much of a good thing.” He settles back into the chair, as cool and unbothered as he ever was. “You can handcuff me again if it would make you feel better.”

Kenny stares at him for a moment, and turns the knife over in his hands. Every logical part of his brain is screaming at him to just slit his throat and be done with the emotion and liability of it all, but he can’t allow himself to do it. It would be such a waste. “I’m...gonna level with you, here.” _No, don’t!_ “I...don’t really...this needs to feel right, you know?”

Johnny nods slowly. He doesn’t know, obviously, but it more or less makes sense. 

“And...this doesn’t feel right.” 

“....huh.” He turns that around in his head for a second. “So...we wait until it does? I can’t imagine you’d just turn me loose.” Johnny looks almost disappointed, and Kenny can almost feel the circuitry in his brain shorting out again. “Does this happen a lot?”

”This has never happened.” 

He raises his eyebrows, then smirks, unmistakably self-satisfied. “I’m that good a lay, huh?”

”Shut up. That’s not...it felt weird before I fucked you, and now it just feels wrong.” God, Kenny has never missed having a fucking normal victim so much. He will never complain about blubbering and begging again. 

“You can let me go.” Johnny bats his eyelashes. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

For some reason, Kenny actually believes that, but that word isn’t going to be enough of an insurance policy. “Yeah. Right.” 

“Well, you have to decide at some point.” 

“And I will. I just...I have to think. I’m sorry about this in advance.”

”Sorry about what—HEY!” 

With a surprising amount of strength, Kenny grabs Johnny by the hair and drags him off the chair and over to a darker corner of the basement, then handcuffs him to a water pipe. 

For some reason, Johnny looks more put out by that than he was by his impending murder. “Are you fucking joking?”

”I’ll be back, I just...need to make sure you don’t run off.” 

Johnny yanks on the handcuffs, trying and failing to maybe pull the pipe out of the wall with his efforts, and shoots Kenny an absolutely betrayed look as he heads for the stairs. “Where the fuck are you going?! Kenny!”

”I said I’ll be back. Just—stay there—“

”You left me a whole lot of fucking choice!”

Kenny winces a little and starts up the stairs. “I’ll bring you back food!”

He disappears up the stairs, and the door shuts behind him. Johnny struggles against the handcuffs for a little longer, but even with all his righteous anger, it’s a pretty useless effort. He has no choice; he has to wait for the return of his captor. 


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Kenny returns to the basement, Johnny is staring daggers at him. "You're back."

Kenny nods, handing him a sandwich wrapped in tin foil. "I said I would be." 

"How chivalrous of you." He tugs emphatically on the one wrist that's handcuffed, then takes the sandwich. "What is this?"

"It's a bacon egg and cheese." Kenny blinks. Johnny appears to be upset that he _isn't_ going to be dying, and he really can't get a handle on why. "...I'm sorry I pulled your hair." 

Johnny rolls his eyes and starts to unwrap it. It actually looks pretty good, and now that it's come to his attention, he _is_ pretty hungry. Part of him wants to refuse just out of spite, but the cheese looks so nice and melty that he can't resist, and eventually lifts it to his lips and takes a bite. 

Kenny drags the chair over and sits across from him at what he considers to be a safe distance. "So, I did some thinking."

"Which is why you left me alone in a basement, handcuffed to a pipe." He stares at Kenny, who just looks confused. "Go on."

"Uh...I don't want to kill you, particularly."

"You still haven't exactly said why that is, and forgive me if I don't trust your intentions." 

"But I also can't turn you loose, because you'll go to the police and I'll get arrested, so...I'm...thinking there's a solution."

Johnny still looks indignant at being ignored, but now that's being cut with suspicion. "...you're gonna keep me here forever, aren't you?" 

"Uh, no. I think you should move in." 

Johnny nearly inhales his sandwich, and starts choking on it immediately. "W-what?" 

"Do you want a glass of water--"

"Expand, goddamn it!"

Kenny sighs a bit, as if he’s the one put out by all of this, before leaning forwards in the chair, elbows propped on his knees. “Well… like I said, I don’t want to kill you and I can’t just let you go, so if you agree to it, you can stay here. With me.”

“What, and stay chained up to this pipe while you kill other people? No thanks.”

“No, this isn’t-- I’m not explaining it, I guess. I meant upstairs, in the house with me.”

He seems so earnest, and he hasn’t been… well, Johnny can’t say he hasn’t been that bad, given the whole abduction and murder plot, but he hasn’t lied, really, and he hasn’t been cruel. Still… “So, what? I stay chained to your bed-”

“What? No, I have a guest bedroom you can use, I’m not gonna chain you anywhere.” Kenny cocks his head to the side and watches Johnny for a second. “I… I don’t want to hurt you, Johnny, I think I’ve made that clear.”

“So… I’m just what? Your live in fuck-buddy or--”

“No, I just-- You’d just live here! Move your stuff into my guest bedroom and live here like it’s your house. Which it would be, partially.”

Johnny stares again, sandwich half eaten and forgotten in his lap. It’s hard to wrap his head around, but he doesn’t want to ask too many questions, lest they make Kenny change his mind and decide to kill him after all, or worse, keep him locked in the murder basement. At the same time, it just sounds like… “You’d just be my landlord, then?”

“No, you don’t have to pay rent. I own the house, it was my grandmother’s. It's... more like a roommate thing, I guess."

It’s a testament to Johnny’s priorities being completely fucked that the lack of rent is the real draw. But really, could anyone blame him? New York rent is fucking astronomical. And this place... “Wait, where are we? Are we still in the city?”

”We haven’t even left Brooklyn.” 

“...huh.” So it can’t be that far from his job. 

“So...what do you say?”

He seems weirdly earnest about all of this, even though it’s pretty obvious that Johnny doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. What would the alternative even be? “Would I have to stop working?”

”...no,” Kenny answers carefully. 

“Then how will you know I won’t tell anyone?”

“Because I don’t want to kill you now, but I’m sure I can get over it.” Kenny cocks his head. “And uh...I will cover utilities.”

”Yeah, I’d fucking hope so. This is a hostage situation.” 

Kenny thinks that’s sort of a dramatic view of things, but he doesn’t say that. “Is that a yes, then?”

”Is there anything else I should know about you? Are all your hobbies like this?”

”Uh...I have a dog. And I don’t have many other hobbies.” 

“Do you work?”

”Yes.”

”As?”

”....”

”Oh, come on. We’re gonna be cohabitating here, I should know something about you.” 

“I do repairs.” 

“You do repairs, you have a dog, and you kill people. Do you ever smile?”

“I don’t pay attention.”

”That means no.” This guy really is kind of weird, but...god, is the prospect of not having to pay city rent prices really worth living with someone he _knows_ to be a murderer? Well...he doesn’t seem loud or particularly narcissistic—he isn’t even _bossy_. Honestly, it would probably be similar to living alone. Kenny doesn’t seem like the excessively social type. “I mean...I can think of worse people to live with, I guess.” 

Kenny perks up, but he looks more surprised than outwardly excited. “Really?”

”Yeah. Besides, it’s not like you’re giving me a lot of options here. So...yeah, fuck, whatever.”

Kenny looks relieved, and Johnny doesn’t wanna know what his plan was if Johnny gave a firm no. “Good… I haven’t ever really had a roommate, but I like to think I’m fairly organized. And I know this is a rough start, but I think this’ll be good once we get into the swing of it, y’know?”

“Well the first step would be _unlocking me from this fucking pipe!_ ” Johnny can’t help getting a bit heated, rattling the cuff around on the pipe to make his point, but now that sex and death aren’t looming, he’s becoming increasingly aware of how naked and disgusting and annoyed he is. Fuck, Kenny better have a nice shower.

“Right!” Kenny stands out of the chair quickly, almost fast enough to knock it over, and he pulls the key out of his pocket.

Johnny opens his hand as if to catch it, but Kenny just squats down next to the pipe and undoes the cuff himself, letting his thumb drift over where the cuff had rubbed Johnny’s skin raw before Johnny can even think to pull his hand away. It’s a quiet moment that strikes Johnny as severely odd the second it’s over.

“I, uh… thanks.” Johnny stands, rolling his wrist and stretching his legs for a second.

Kenny doesn’t smile, but he nods earnestly, and Johnny’s starting to conflate the two in his head. “No problem. If you wanna…” He gestures vaguely towards where Johnny’s pants are piled up with the remains of his shirt next to the chair.

“I’d rather not get my remaining clothes gross before I can shower.”

“...okay, but I have a dog, and Rosie doesn’t need to see your dick.” Kenny crosses his arms like this is a real sticking point, and Johnny can’t help poking at it.

“Rosie?”

“Yes, her name is Rosie, and I’d prefer if she wasn’t traumatized. I’ll give you clothes for tomorrow while you move.”

“You want me to move in tomorrow?”

“Well, it’s a bit late to do it tonight, and I do have work in the morning. Please just put your pants back on.”

”So I don’t...traumatize your dog.” 

“Yeah.” 

The fact that Kenny sounds 100% completely serious throws Johnny off just enough that he does what he’s asked. Kenny hands the clothes over and Johnny stands to put his pants on, but when he stands up straight to button them... 

“...what?”

Johnny blinks. He must not have taken note of it in the bar, but this entire time he’d thought that Kenny was like...6’4”, for some reason. And he is not, because Johnny is looking _down_ at him. “Have you been this short the entire time?”

”Are you asking me if my height has changed at some point within the past three hours?”

”I dunno, I just...thought you were taller, I guess.”

”That’s a common misconception. People who seem very confident are often thought to be taller than they are—“ 

Testing his new theory, Johnny takes a step into Kenny’s personal space, and he takes a step back and breaks eye contact. Which...is sort of fascinating. “You don’t seem very confident anymore.” 

Kenny shrugs, pushing his fingers through his hair. “It’s a mask, like anything else. Come on.” 

Johnny allows Kenny to lead him up the basement stairs, and he steps into a house he does not recognize at all. He must have been out cold when Kenny brought him down. He glances around the kitchen, ignoring Kenny as he bolts the door, but glances at the doorway when he hears a collar jingling. “Is that the dog?”

With a name like Rosie, Johnny would have bet money on it being one of those little ankle-biter dogs—a Yorkie or a Pomeranian or a pug or something—but the dog that comes charging at them instead is an absolute monster of a thing. Rosie is a fully-grown Rottweiler, easily 150 pounds, galloping at the two of them like a racehorse. 

“Rosie, down.” Kenny scoots in front of Johnny so Rosie doesn’t tackle him, and she stops short and plants her butt on the ground, little nubby tail wagging with delirious glee at the presence of a new person. 

She is pretty cute, he must admit. Johnny has always been a dog person, and the fact that Kenny owns one is shocking. He seems like the type who’d get a fish, or a turtle. Or a rock. 

“This is Johnny. He’s gonna be staying here.” Kenny tells this to his dog very seriously, as if she’ll have trouble with this concept, and her tongue just lolls out of her mouth in response. “So be nice.” 

Rosie woofs very quietly and hops up again, immediately nosing at Johnny’s legs and pushing her nose into his hand until he pets her. He can’t resist for very long, though, and he kneels down to scratch her ears more efficiently as she gets to work licking his entire face very thoroughly. 

“Is she always this friendly?”

Kenny shrugs, leaning against his kitchen counter. “I guess? She likes my mom, but my mom is the one who got her, so that’s a bit expected.”

“This is your mom’s dog? Wait, does your mom live here?” Johnny can’t help the way he peers around. There’s fucked up, and then there’s _committing murder with your mother upstairs_ fucked up.

“No, just me and Rosie. And now you. And Rosie’s mine, my mom just got her for me cause she thought I’d be lonely in the house by myself.” He says it so easily and honestly, Johnny can’t help but smile for a second.

“That’s sweet.”

“She worries…” He trails off for a bit, and it’s as… introspective as Johnny’s seen him, even if it’s only a moment before he snaps to. “You didn’t need to know that. You said you wanted to shower? I can show you the bathroom and your bedroom, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, that would be great.” He really is bone tired, and after the fucking day he’s had, Johnny thinks he deserves a hot shower and passing out face first into the next cushion of any sort that he sees. He stands up off the kitchen floor with a grunt, and Rosie’s immediately nosing into his leg again.

Kenny stands straight and snaps his fingers a few times to catch his dog’s attention. “Rosie, get away from Johnny. He needs to go to bed, and so do you.” He really does talk to his dog like a person, and it’s endearing, for now at least. The dog seems, to a degree, to understand, because she abandons Johnny to stand at Kenny’s side. “The, uh, bedrooms are upstairs.”

Johnny nods and follows him out of the kitchen, passing through a sizable living room before heading up. He can’t help but think it really is a big house for just one person to live in.

Kenny directs him into one of the bedrooms off to the side of the stairs, stepping inside with Rosie on his heels. “This will be your room. Mine is across the hall, and the bathroom is just next door, towels in the cabinet over the toilet.”

“...not to be pushy, but you said I could get a change of clothes.”

“Yeah, I… should have sweatpants that fit, but…”

“They’ll be a bit short?”

“Probably.”

“I can live with that.”

”Okay.” While Kenny is rooting through his drawers in search of an outfit that won’t be too restrictive, he hears the water go on. He tries to keep the basement pretty clean, but with all the sweat and...bodily fluids that Johnny had spent the last hour or so sitting in, he understands the desperation. 

Finally, he pulls a pair of sweats and a shirt free, and Rosie wags her tail and noses at his cheek. She seems really excited to have someone new in the house. 

“You like him, huh?” Kenny murmurs, scratching her behind one ear. “Yeah. He’s alright.” 

She just stares at him, her little tail going a mile a minute, and cocks her head. 

“Okay, well, what would you have done? Think of it...like a science experiment. This is foreign territory now. I don’t usually take requests.” Kenny squints at her, sitting back and folding his legs so he’s eye level with her. “I don’t think this means I’m getting soft. I think it means that I have a soft...spot. Like a bruised pear or something.” He pauses. “Can you stop looking at me like that?”

Rosie responds with what Kenny imagines is a bark of concession, steps into his personal space, and starts to curl up in his lap. And he’s content to sit there and pet her until he hears the water shut off. 

“Okay. Up.” Kenny pats her hip. “C’mon, up.” She looks at him, eyes big and brown and sad, and Kenny points to her bed. “C’mon. Bed time.” 

At the banishment to her corner, Rosie lets out a truly heartbreaking whimper, nestling closer to Kenny and staring up at him balefully. He shakes his head and remains steadfast for a little while, but as soon as Rosie turns up the dial and starts crying, Kenny has no choice but to drop his arm. 

“...fine. Fine. But I know you’re full of shit.” Despite his grumbling, Kenny does pick up petting her, and when the bathroom door opens, he looks a little like a deer in headlights. 

For one thing, Johnny had stepped out in only a towel. And at being reminded of his presence, Rosie completely abandons Kenny and runs over to her new housemate to be petted again. 

“Rosie, down.” Kenny stands up, holding Johnny’s clothes in one arm. “I’m sorry about her.” 

“Oh, it’s fine.” He smiles a little and scratches her ears, giggling when she yaps happily. “She’s so friendly.” 

“Yeah. She’s a good dog.” Without another word, Kenny hands the clothes over to Johnny, keeping him at arm’s length. 

“Thanks.” He takes them slowly, watching Kenny for a moment. He’s definitely kind of weird, but he’s...awkward, in almost a shy way. It’s such a far cry from the way he’d been when Johnny was in the basement. “Is that your bedroom?”

”Uh...yeah.”

”Can I see it?”

”What? No.” 

Johnny grins, egged on by his discomfort. “Come on, you know what my room looks like.” He pushes past Kenny, with Rosie on his heels, and sticks his head in. 

The whole thing is...disappointingly normal. He has a neatly made bed and a well-populated bookshelf. Rosie’s bed, and her blanket, are in the corner. It’s clearly well-kept and clean, and he’s not sure if that makes Kenny more or less strange. “What are you even keeping in here that you don’t want anyone to see?”

”I’m just...private. There’s nothing specific I’m hiding.” 

“Except the murder stuff.”

”That’s all in the basement.” 

“So, what? You just keep all of that confined down there?”

“Obviously. Why would I risk it by bringing it upstairs?”

Johnny almost desperately wants to gesture at himself with a questioning look, but he refrains, instead continuing to peer around Kenny’s room. “So you don’t have any literal skeletons in the closet then?”

“...No, just… normal closet stuff.” Kenny suddenly seems a bit more shifty, and he steps further into the room, as if to try and block Johnny from checking while still maintaining a large distance between them.

“Okay, well that was sketchy as hell.” Johnny takes another step towards the closed closet door, tucking the clothing from Kenny under his arm.

It’s almost a surprise when Kenny yells, “Stop!” but it does nothing but spur him on even more. Johnny steps up and turns the handle, half expecting it to be locked, but nothing stops him from throwing it open.

He’s greeted by nothing but a wall of clothing, balled up shirts and pants and socks and so forth rising up from the floor to almost meet the bottom of the hanging clothes, a distinct lack of anything suspect. “That’s it?” Johnny turns to look at Kenny, waiting for a reprimand, but his would-be killer is staring at the hardwood flooring instead. “Kenny?”

“Yeah, it’s just… I swear I actually do laundry, eventually, but…” He trails off, and it’s odd, but he just seems _embarrassed_ more than anything else, like Johnny would scold him.

He almost feels… not put out, per say, but it is anticlimactic, and he feels like a bit of a dick for pushing when Kenny seemed so uncomfortable. Which is almost ironic, given… everything. “Well, I thought I was going to find, like, a severed head, so dirty laundry isn’t exactly a disappointment.”

Kenny cocks his head, looking up from the floor, finally. “That would be stupid. Any human remains would smell awful after a while, especially soft tissue, and it’s a huge risk to keep intact pieces of victims. And I said all of my hobby supplies were downstairs.”

“Hobby supplies?”

“I mean… as I said, it is my hobby.”

“Knitting is a hobby. Woodworking is a hobby. If you’re not buying your murder supplies at a Michael’s, I’d say pick another word. Or just pick another hobby, if we’re being completely open.”

“...okay.”

He’s being sketchy again, but Johnny won’t pry, especially as it’s setting in that he’s practically naked in Kenny’s room after barging his way in. The clothes under his arm are a bit damp, and it’s probably best if he beats an exit fast. “I’ll just… leave you to it then. Sorry.”

Kenny steps out of his way as he slides quickly through the door. “No worries, it’s… fair that you’d want to check, I think. We are roommates now and that means equal footing and a bit of compromise.”

"Aside from the hostage situation, you mean."

Kenny frowns a little. "...yes."

It's easier than Johnny had expected to get under his skin, but that doesn't mean it's the most fulfilling work. What kind of serial killer is fucking _sensitive_? But that doesn't mean Johnny is going to stop bugging him, it just means he'll probably enjoy it less. Which is a reality he can live with. "Hey. Try to lighten up. I'm just fucking with you."

"...okay."

"Good night, Kenny."

“...good night.” 

Johnny’s already across the hallway with his door shut as he hears Kenny’s dismissal. He dumps the armful of clean clothes on the bed before poking through them a bit and eventually putting them on; as predicted, the sweatpants hit way above his ankles and the shirt hem falls a little short, but it’ll do. 

Given the circumstances, Johnny probably should be grateful for any sort of clothing. He should be grateful his throat’s not slit yet, and he _should_ be looking for a way out, but instead he climbs into the bed Kenny showed him before and tries his hardest to fall asleep. He hears what has to be the clacking of Rosie walking across the hardwood with Kenny’s softer steps behind, a mumbling sound that could be his voice but could just be the bones of the house shifting. 

If this bites him in the ass, he really has no one to blame but himself.


End file.
